


Pretty as a Doll

by AnonEhouse



Category: Fairy Tales and Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-24
Updated: 2010-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-14 01:50:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/144031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/AnonEhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Snow White was a cool character who knew what she wanted and how to get it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty as a Doll

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VerboseWordsmith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerboseWordsmith/gifts).



> This is an unbetaed Treat. I had fun with it.

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

Snow White always knew her beauty was an asset she needed to develop to get the full value. When her mother told her to brush her hair a hundred strokes before going to bed, she didn't stop at ninety-nine. When her new stepmother told her to stop sniveling over her mother's coffin, she'd blotted her eyes carefully and thought sweet thoughts of flowers and singing birds, so she wouldn't get frown wrinkles.

When there were balls, and her stepmother told her to go to bed at nine, just when things were becoming particularly gay, she had politely wished everyone a good evening and gone up to her bed, said her prayers for the soothing effect they had on stress-lines while carefully kneeling on a satin pillow to preserve the perfection of her dimpled knees. Then she tended to her hair, put on her creams and lotions and slept quietly, without tossing or turning.

She rose early, bathed in asses' milk and crushed pearls despite the smell, wore white kid gloves to protect her nails, and sat by a precisely shaded window doing embroidery with blunted needles, carefully turning her head whenever anyone walked past so that the slanting sunlight would shine on her perfect profile.

There was so much to learn that she never grew bored. For a young courtier, this shy smile and that exact degree of curtsey, for an elderly statesman, the wide-eyed admiration and deeper reverence. She knew how to make any dancing partner seem graceful, how to tilt her head back showing her long, vulnerable neck as she laughed a precisely judged musical laugh. She worked hard to look as if she never had a thought in her head.

When an unmarried prince visited she was demure. After all she was only fourteen, and judged it best to wait until she was fifteen to allow herself to seem interested. But on her fifteenth birthday, instead of the low-calorie cake and perhaps a caged nightingale that she'd expected, her stepmother's favorite huntsman led her into the woods. She didn't like the woods- it was too difficult to stay clean, and it absolutely ruined her carefully done hair. But that was beside the point, as the huntsman made clear once they were well away from the castle. Her stepmother had ordered her death. Snow White was shocked. She'd thought the woman was sensible, and would realize that Snow White could forge a very good alliance with her marriage. That just went to show you shouldn't let emotions overrule logic.

She wept prettily (which is a very difficult thing) at the huntsman's knees, making her eyes huge and innocent until the man crumbled and shot a deer instead of her. Snow took off her shoes and headed out as quickly as she could, in case he decided he wanted more reward than an innocent kiss to his cheek. Unmarried pregnant princesses never prospered.

She knew very little about forests, it wasn't generally an important subject in her curriculum, but she did know that game paths often led to water, and if you followed water down stream eventually you'd find someone living nearby. She carefully skirted several small cabins. The last thing she wanted was to set up house with a lonely woodsman. She was tired and her feet were sore by the time she came to the sprawling, but low, house set half in the trees, half in the side of a stony outcrop. There was a pile of mine workings. There were a few goats in a pen, a stable that smelled of donkey, and a well-kept vegetable garden. The roof looked in good condition. She opened the main door cautiously and halloed in a sweet, innocent voice. No dogs barked, and no people shouted. She looked around and very quickly determined the residents were seven dwarves, and from the stacks of laundry, all seven were male. She considered the situation and decided it was optimal. Dwarves were actually soft touches and human women didn't attract them. And even if one of them were a pervert with a human fetish, he couldn't get her pregnant, which was the main thing princes objected to in a bride.

She found food and drink, then rolled up her sleeves and did a bit of cleaning. It didn't really need to be much to make a good effect, considering what slobs dwarves were. She found some unused sheets in a cupboard hidden behind a pile of laundry, made the bed that smelled the least disgusting, decided to forego her prayers because the long walk had tired her enough to sleep without tossing or turning and slept until the miners returned and she could wake in pretty astonishment.

Dwarves were so easy. If all she'd been interested in was wealth, she could have ridden out in a donkey cart full of rubies and assorted other jewelry inside of a week. But she hadn't spent years grooming herself to settle for life as a wealthy commoner. She sang prettily to keep her cheeks rosy, and cleaned the place enough so as not to choke on the grime (and hired a few stout peasant girls to do the heavy work when the dwarves were working in the mine) and bided her time. The girls could be counted on to gossip, especially after Snow cast frightened looks in the general direction of the castle and begged them to keep her existence a secret.

When her stepmother, the queen, hobbled up made up as a crone it wasn't much more difficult to pretend not to recognize her than it was to pretend to find Admiral Boring's stories fascinating. Snow played dumb and sweet and thought even less of stepmother's brains when the woman tried to commit murder by corset. Honestly, Snow had squeezed herself into much tighter ones. The whalebone and stays number she'd worn on her fourteenth birthday almost forced her to breathe through her ears. She did a graceful fake faint, then napped until the dwarves came home.

Stepmother was persistent, if not bright. When she worked her way up to poisoned haircombs (worked well for removing lice), Snow decided it was time to go to the next stage. The gossipy maids had spread rumors about her sweetness and beauty, etc. etc. and whispered within her sharp hearing about the various princelings wandering about the woods. One of them was bound to be suitable. After the first murder attempt, Snow had hinted about how she would hate to lie under the ground and be eaten by worms, or be burned up like an old roast, or...until the dwarves made her a lovely glass coffin which came in handy when she was 'poisoned' by pretending to eat an apple. She lay peacefully in the coffin during the day (no more difficult than sitting through parliament opening ceremonies), carefully watching the various princes parade by and then prance off, all disappointed to find merely a pretty corpse. At night she'd nip out for a stretch and a bite to eat and a toilet break. She'd also developed amazing bladder control during those ceremonies.

Then came the prince on the white horse. Snow examined them both through lowered eyelashes. The horse showed signs of excellent breeding, which meant either his kingdom was rich or at least they had good agricultural programs. The prince was pretty, too, which didn't hurt, although it wasn't exactly a requirement. He looked at her seeming corpse, and licked his lips. Then he set out to win the dwarves over, which, as Snow knew, was easy. A few sad sighs, a few wistful words about wishing to keep her beauty where he could always admire it, a few promises about bigger and stronger donkeys and maybe even a few mules... and they had struck a bargain.

Snow threw her weight to one side as the dwarves lifted the coffin, making it fall to the soft moss surrounding it. She rolled out of the coffin, gasping and tossing aside a saved bit of apple. Always good to give people an explanation, however far-fetched. She gazed upon the prince, and swooned in his arms in front of the dwarves, the nosy maids, and various other princes. Grumbling, he set her side-saddle in front of him on the white horse. Snow leaned just enough against him to make a pretty picture as they returned to his kingdom.

She was fairly sure his parents would be relieved he'd come back with a live bride. And later, she'd have the dwarves make him a pretty doll.


End file.
